How to Grow a Garden
by River Winters
Summary: A series of moments is all it takes to put two people together. Hannah/Neville.
1. First Year

**How to Grow a Garden**

_Chapter One: First Year_

_I: Cat & Toad_

Hannah Abbott was a very simple kind of girl in her own right. She liked collecting chocolate frog cards, tending to things that grew, and organizing things. She was a tidy and clever sort of girl, the kind that plans events months in advance and can't concentrate unless everything is in its right place. She always got things done on time (for fear of never accomplishing them at all), and always had a nice word for everyone. She didn't make friends easily, but the friends she made were the kind kept forever. But despite these shining qualities, she had always some very troublesome problems that always managed to ruin anything good she started. She was accident-prone and clumsy (breaking _at least_ one thing a day, no matter how hard she tried to be careful) and she waspainfully shy (_especially _with boys). These two problems bred themselves into an even bigger problem: fear. She was in constant panic that she might trip over something, or say the wrong thing, or break someone's dishes or toy or wand. All of the everyday dread led to constant stress, so Hannah Abbott was quite used to finding herself having miniature breakdowns (not that she liked it, of course).

And right now, she was positive she was about to go completely mental. It was her day of first year at Hogwarts and she hadn't even gotten off the train without incident! First, she'd gotten the hem of her robe caught on a compartment door and spent much too long trying to get away without a rip (but it _did_ rip, anyway). Then, as she had exited the train, she'd dropped and broken her cat's cage (which unfortunately was holding her cat), and poor Padrig (who hated travel, as well as cages) had darted off into the crowd of students.

After a ten-minute frenzied search for the cat (he was nowhere to be found), Hannah gulped down a new panicked realization: she had no idea where any of the other first years had gone, and she didn't hear anyonecalling for them anymore. It was all right, she reasoned with herself. There were lots of older students still unloading, and she could just ask them where she was supposed to go. Except she _couldn't._ The very thought of talking to someone she didn't know and admitting what had happened would be beyond embarrassing. It would be mortifying.

So she stood, frozen, watching people pass, trying to talk herself into asking each one that passed—but then deciding against it and closing her open mouth. Just as she finally (for the third time) got up the courage to stop a student, a particularly ugly toad whizzed by, and Hannah gasped as she realized why: Padrig was in hot pursuit!

She took off, dropping her satchel and cage, calling after Padrig to please stop and come back this instant! She surprisingly caught a bit of luck and was able to scoop her cat up just before it tried to run underneath the train after the toad. She hugged Padrig's scrawny form tightly to her chest as he wiggled to get away. Marching back toward where she had dropped her satchel and broken cat cage, she huffily caught her breath, wondering how many people were laughing at how silly she must have looked in pursuit of her wonky feline.

Then she felt it—a tap on her shoulder. She turned, a little dismayed at being approached. "'Scuse me…" a stout boy with large teeth looked at her nervously. "You dropped these." He was holding out her satchel and cage, and Hannah found a very surprised smile on her face.

"_Thank _you…" she said with profuse earnestness as she took them with one hand (Padrig was still wiggly), and the boy smiled back timidly, trying to hide his teeth under his lips. For the moment, Hannah felt she had met a kindred spirit: he looked as jumpy and out-of-place as she felt.

But then he said it. "You, uh, you haven't seen a toad, have you?"

Her face probably fell at _least_ ten feet, and she crushed Padrig against her chest. The cat meowed loudly in protest. "I, uh…" she could feel her skin prickling with embarrassment. "I-I… a toad?" The prickling turned to a full-fledged burn. Of course the toad belonged to a student, she really should have known. The boy looked at her expectantly. Instead of telling Neville about how her cat had endeavored to kill the poor toad, Hannah turned and fled with burning cheeks, leaving a confused and defeated Neville Longbottom behind to wonder if it was something he had said, or _maybe_ if there was something in his teeth...

He really didn't have much more time to think about it, because a very large, hairy man had appeared, and was motioning to him from the direction the girl had run in. "C'mon, follow me – any more firs'-years? Mind yer step, now! Firs'-years follow me!"

And that was the beginning of their relationship. Based on the exchange, you might suppose that they never spoke again (and trust me, they did _try_ to ever speak again), but sometimes these things just have a way of starting, then continuing, then never ending. And so it would be with Hannah and Neville, who remained quite clueless as to what was going on… at least for a while.

II: _Snape's Least Favorite Students_

Eleven days after the beginning of classes, Neville broke his wrist and was sent to the hospital ward. Hannah was there too, being patched up from a potion gone awry (her hands and arms had swollen to three times their regular size). And as neither one had gotten over the embarrassing first encounter, the two were absolutely mortified at seeing the other (Neville assuming that Hannah thought him to be stupid, Hannah assuming Neville thought her to be crazy and bizarre). But to make matters even worse, after that, they somehow managed to see each other once a day-in the halls, in class, and usually in the Great Hall too. Every time each saw the other, the other pretended to be very, very busy.

While the two students successfully upheld their awkward relations, they also werealso finding their new lives at Hogwarts to be a large adjustment. However, Professor Severus Snape was quite used to the entire ordeal. In fact, he was nearly bored with it. Year after year, he taught students who were average. _Occasionally _he had the pleasure of teaching semi-talented students. But never in his academic career had he taught two more utterly useless students than Neville Longbottom and Hannah Abbott. Thankfully, they were not in the same class period, or heaven forbid they might work together or try to help each other and in the process destroy an entire wing of Hogwarts.

They weren't all bad at everything, though. Snape was oblivious to the fact, but Professor Sprout was very aware that both Neville and Hannah had great cleverness when it came to Herbology work. They showed uncommon thought and interest in the care and keeping of plants, magical and non-magical.

But anyway! One perfectly innocent Tuesday afternoon, Hannah hurried down the hallway past other students, going over five to-do lists mentally, while also digging in her bag for her History of Magic textbook. Slowly wandering in from the opposite direction, Neville was trying to remember something he'd forgotten (and there was _something_, the Remembrall was indeed very red). And as Hannah was pulling her book out and Neville was shaking his head at his Remembrall, the two students collided, knocking each other (and everything the other was carrying) over.

In a matter of perhaps twenty seconds, everything changed. First, Professor Snape glided by, sending them both a very disdainful look and (perhaps they imagined it) something of a hopeless moan. Then, Hannah looked at Neville, and Neville looked at Hannah as loose papers from her satchel fluttered down like monstrous snowflakes. And then they laughed. And after that, they weren't afraid to talk to each other any more.

_III: Greenhouse One_

While Hannah was slowly making friends and settling into classes without _too _many incidents, Neville was having a rough time indeed. Besides getting poor marks in Potions, he forgot the password to get into his dormitory, was continually harassed by Draco Malfoy, _and_ had accidentally become involved in some sort of mischief with Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley. Then there was the troll at Halloween which sent everyone into a panic, and then finally Malfoy's leg-locker curse that crippled both Neville'sself-esteem and legs. And _then_, when he had stood up for himself, Malfoy had made him feel even worse. It was all admittedly quite depressing, and Neville found himself feeling a bit out-of-sorts more often than not. He took comfort in his gran's letters, and the hours spent in greenhouse one. Usually, Hannah was there too, but she didn't bother him or make fun of him, in fact she didn't even try to talk to him either, so it wasn't all that bad.

One particularly dreary afternoon, a week or two before Christmas Break, Neville and Hannah were in greenhouse one. The rain was coming down heavily, and both were silently hoping it would die down soon because of the lateness of the hour. Neville was turning soil and sulking while Hannah was sorting seeds. In the middle of a perfectly reasonable and un-offending silence, Neville's gloomy voice made Hannah jump. "I wish I were in Hufflepuff."

She looked at him for a solid moment as he kept turning soil with his fingers, his face unreadable. "Why?" she finally asked, a bit startled by the sound of her own voice. They usually said nothing at all to each other.

"I'm not... I'm not..." he stopped turning soil, and his voice quavered. "I just don't belong in Gryffindor."

"Why do you think that? That's _not_ true," Hannah said a bit louder and angrier than she meant to, and Neville looked at her in surprise. "I mean...you're... you're very brave, Neville. I heard about Malfoy and all. I _really_ wish I could stand up to people like that." Hannah's ears burned.

Neville's face struggled to maintain its current expression, as if he were daring to hope. "R-Really?"

Hannah nodded, smiled, and shyly looked away. After ten more minutes of waiting for the rainfall to pass (and it only got worse), the two students dashed out, huddled under an umbrella they carried together.


	2. Year Two and Three

_Chapter Two: Year Two and Three_

_I: Rants & Disappearing Plants_

By now, no doubt, you've got a good idea of what sort of fellow Neville Longbottom was: kind, clumsy, and undervalued by some (especially a certain Severus Snape). But Neville was in truth a regular boy with hopes and dreams like the rest of them: he wanted friends, good grades, and the ability to get through a single day without forgetting something or breaking something. He entered his second year at Hogwarts, and for a _single_ day, everything seemed relatively normal to Neville-and he didn't even break anything, either! But the second day of term, Neville went to his Defense Against Dark Arts class and unfortunately learned a great deal about the devious nature of Cornish Pixies. After being picked up and hung on the hanging candelabra, he promptly fell (and ended up being the joke everyone was telling at dinnertime). Thoroughly embarrassed, he sulked the evening away in the library, writing a letter to his gran.

Hannah didn't have a very nice day, either. Although double Herbology had been exciting, during Transfiguration, she'd accidentally turned her pencil eraser into a bee and it had stung her several times. After seeing Madam Pomfrey, she'd knocked her goblet full of grape juice over at lunch (thus staining her white shirt terribly). After a disastrous afternoon, Hannah fled to the library, and sadly searched the shelves in search of a book on Mandrakes. It was there that she glimpsed Neville in a dark corner, furiously scribbling on parchment. She watched him for a moment, her favorite Herbology partner. He stopped after a moment as if he sensed her gaze. He looked up and saw her. Hannah went over and they ranted to each other (after asking how the other's summer went, of course).

I suppose you could say they were close friends, but neither of them really realized it at first. They just existed, which was enough for them. Plus, you must remember that they were both a bit scatterbrained (despite Hannah's to-do lists and careful day planning). Nevertheless, the school year just got worse from there. Harry Potter started acting very strange and jumpy. Neville started hearing odd sounds at night in the walls. And one morning, Hannah noticed something amiss, also...

She poked at the knotgrass with her index finger. Hadn't there been more of it yesterday? Hannah looked at it silently for five solid minutes before looking around for help.

"…Neville?"

His dark head appeared from behind a rather large growth of flitterbloom, eyebrows raised.

"Do you know if we're missing some knotgrass?"

Neville shuffled over, clearing his throat as he looked uncertainly at the knotgrasses. "I haven't really paid attention to it lately because, you know… it's your plant." He looked at her with shy, shining eyes. The two had an unspoken agreement that each had certain plants they tended to—and knotgrass was hers.

Hannah smiled up at Neville, forgetting what she had asked, and reached in the general direction of her trowel. Naturally, she knocked over a whole shelf of pots.

_II: Hannah's Boggart_

Perhaps it was winning ten whole points for Gryffindor, or facing his greatest fear (sort of) by defeating a Boggart earlier that day. Or it could have been the fact that he was Neville, and he always forgot something somewhere every day. Either way, he had left his quills in the Defense Against Dark Arts classroom, and needed them for Divination. He hurried, hoping he wouldn't be late to Divination (but in truth, he would rather not have gone at all).

The classroom door was cracked, and Neville peered inside to see if he could interrupt to get his things. Hannah Abbott was standing in front of the wardrobe, clutching her wand. "Please, Professor, I really don't want to!" she was protesting, even as Lupin was calling "Three, two, _one_!" and opening the wardrobe, releasing the Boggart.

Neville felt his heart rate quicken. A tall, dark form advanced out of the wardrobe, a pale arm with the Dark Mark holding a wand high and ready. "R-r-riddikulus!" Hannah squeaked, but the Boggart merely halted for a second before resuming its forward march. She shrank back, terrified, stuttering "riddikulus" over and over, each time becoming more frantic, tears streaming down her face in fear, until she was just backing away, her wand clattering uselessly to the floor. And the Death Eater was closing in, and no one was doing anything, and Neville could not sit still and do nothing. He leaped into the room, seething with adrenaline, his wand brandished. "RIDDIKULUS!" he roared, and the Death Eater burst into a thousand tiny wisps of smoke, and was gone.

Neville blinked in shock at where the Boggart had been, surprised at how powerful his charm had been. Everyone else had turned in surprise to look at him, and Hannah looked as if she couldn't believe her eyes (or luck). Lupin looked at Neville with mild surprise. "Mr. Longbottom, back again?"

Hannah began crying quietly, trying to hide behind her hair.

"Er, I forgot my quills," Neville said, and picked them up from the desk he'd used, practically running out of the room, glancing back at poor Hannah, who was badly shaken.

The next day, Hannah thanked Neville for defeating her Boggart for her, and he said he didn't blame her much, Death Eaters were quite intimidating. She looked at him sadly and told him she wasn't afraid of Death Eaters. She told him that her dad had left her mum to become a Death Eater—the Boggart yesterday had been her father.

Hannah had never told anyone else about her father being a Death Eater, and Neville realized that on intuition. Even though he never mentioned it to her and she never requested it, he intended to keep it his secret forever. He knew how much things like that could hurt. And Hannah, who hadn't really meant to reveal that much personal information to anyone found that it had actually made her feel better, not worse. Neville didn't treat her any differently. And Hannah liked that.

* * *

_III: Dangerous Things, Such as Sirius Black & Howlers_

By year three, Neville had accepted his uselessness in potions and wasn't trying anymore (that's not to say it didn't drive him bonkers anyway), while Hannah still stubbornly tried to do better. It didn't seem to be working. The two found themselves at their wits end sometimes, what with the scare of Sirius Black attacks, the Dementors' constant presence, and the annoyance that was Divination. But sometimes, they managed to forget their troubles. Sort of.

It was Halloween night, and everyone was in sleeping bags in the Great Hall as the castle was being searched. Above them, the stars were visible through the charmed ceiling.

"Do you _really_ think he can turn into a shrub?"

"Yes, a _flowering_ shrub!"

"But why a _plant_?"

"Neville, there are plants _everywhere_ at Hogwarts! Think of how easy it'd be to blend in."

"But what about _inside_ the castle?"

"Oh… Well, maybe he can turn into pebbles or mice, or, ooh, a house elf, too?"

"You two!" Percy's commanding voice startled Neville and Hannah into silence. "I said _no more talking_!"

If Percy's hearing had been better, he'd have heard Neville doing a _very _good (but also not very flattering) impression of him. And if Hannah could have seen better in the dark, she would have seen Neville looking at her like no other boy ever had.

But she didn't notice at all. And so, third year continued on quite fine, despite paranoia and stress associated with Sirius Black attacks and homework. On a rather pleasant Tuesday, Hannah practically bounced into greenhouse three, a to-do list in hand. But then she halted dead in her tracks. Neville was slumped over, leaning against the wall, as if unconscious. Images of Sirius Black murdering poor, sweet Neville automatically appeared in her head, and Hannah rushed to his side, shouting his name in distress.

Neville jumped and spun, shouting as he clutched his heart, in turn frightening Hannah half to death.

"OH! I thought you were... I thought something had..." Hannah's ears burned horribly. "I thought Sirius Black..." she expelled a shaky breath, stopping herself before she said anything worse. And then she noticed his red eyes and tearstained cheeks.

"Got a howler today. Brought shame onto the whole family. Tha's all," he muttered miserably, unable to look her in the eyes.

Hannah looked at him for a moment. "_Neville_…" He looked at her glumly. "That's a load of rubbish if I ever heard it." He sniffed, looking slightly improved. Hannah brightened. "Want a game of exploding snap?" she asked. He grinned in spite of himself, and inconspicuously (he thought) wiped some tear trails from his cheek.


	3. Fourth and Fifth Year

_Chapter Three: Fourth and Fifth Year_

_I: Neville Longbottom's Long-Overdue Realization_

It was fourth year, February 24th to be exact, when Neville Longbottom finally came to a very important realization. He, along with everyone else, had been in the stands, watching the surface of the lake for signs of movement, for signs of the Triwizard champions. After Krum emerged with Hermione (the girl everyone knew the Bulgarian was sweet on), Neville wondered. He had never fashioned himself fit for entry into the Tournament-he wasn't old enough, anyway-but he found himself briefly imagining who would have been waiting for _him_ at the bottom of the lake. He saw the image of Hannah Abbott, her long blonde hair dancing around her like ribbons, her eyes shut as if in sleep. And he was startled that was the person he first pictured. And it's funny how a single image can fetch such startling emotions from a person, but as Neville pictured her underwater, surrounded by lakeweed, something clicked in his mind... and suddenly everything was crystal clear and rushing at him full-force. _She was the girl._

The girl who he didn't get deathly nervous around, the girl he had spent hours with and never noticed the passing of the time, the girl he had saved chocolate frog cards for. She was the one who had helped him write essays and create outlines for them, the one who had patiently tried to help him with flying a broomstick (and I_ do_ mean tried—they were _both_ rubbish). She was the girl who was even worse at Exploding Snap than she was, the girl that always, always stood up for him no matter what. She had even knit him a cap with a pompon last Christmas... it had a very clumsily stitched _N_ on the front. He was wearing the hat that day.

Mouth opened, Neville gawked around, looking for her. She was just a few rows over, cheering as Cedric, her housemate, returned with Cho Chang, his girlfriend. Neville looked at Hannah long and breathlessly, his heart beating fast. Of course, it made perfect sense! Why hadn't he realized before? The only thing he could think was how much this complicated things, and at this point, he was having a hard time breathing. Beside him, Ginny shouted Neville's name for the fifth time (and he did not hear that time, either).

After that day, Hannah began noticing a change in Neville. He didn't speak to her as much. He seemed preoccupied and jittery, and kept dropping things all the time (well, all right, this was pretty normal for Neville, but _still_. He did it more than he had before.). Hannah wondered if perhaps he wasn't getting enough rest, or if maybe the weather was affecting him. Neville, however, was trying not to notice things. Trying not to notice the flowery smell of Hannah's hair or the way sunlight reflected off of it, or the way she stood, toes pointed toward each other. He was trying not to notice her dimples when she smiled, or the way she held her quill, or how even when she blew her nose it was cute. But most importantly, he was trying not to _be_ noticed as he noticed. Neville Longbottom was hopeless, and he didn't want _anyone_ to know.

So he said nothing at all to Hannah that might jeopardize things or embarrass himself-after all, Neville was a large-percent sure she probably didn't like him back. Either way, Christmas came and went and Neville said nothing. Summer break arrived and Neville sadly watched Hannah evaporate out of his life for the few months, mouth closed. And then, fifth year began and Neville still said nothing, even as things began to look worse and worse. There were whispers of You-Know-Who returning and building some sort of weapon, and a rather unpleasant lady by the name of Umbridge became the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. All of the students were suddenly submerged in a school that wasn't familiar or safe anymore. And Neville often found himself looking at Hannah, hoping he could protect her against whatever dark storm was coming their way.

* * *

_II: When Children Are Forced to Grow Up_

Neville looked tired and worn thin the entire fifth year, and Hannah felt the same way. The worries of the world seemed to be entirely theirs, and to top it off O.W.L.S. were just around the corner. While Hannah mostly worried about grades and studying (partly because they seemed more real than You-Know-Who, and partly because she didn't _want_ to think about bigger realities), Neville's mind remained on darker things.

One day, just as dusk was setting in, Hannah was getting ready to leave greenhouse four when Neville looked up, a very serious look on his usually nervous face. "Times are bad, Hannah, you know?"

"What are you talking about, Neville?" She was tired and didn't honestly feel like talking about how difficult studying for the O.W.L.S. was, or how behind she was, either (thank you very much). He stood, brushing his hands off.

"I just think that, er, you really need to know how to defend yourself in case of... in case of... I dunno, more attacks or when You-Know-Who returns, or..." he trailed off into a heavy silence.

Hannah drew her coat tighter around her body, suddenly uncomfortable with how seriously Neville was looking at her. "Neville, d-don't talk like that. It's...you're scaring me."

"Well maybe you _ought_ to be scared," Neville said a bit louder than necessary. Immediately an apologetic look overcame his face and he quickly continued. "I didn't mean-I just want you to be safe, you-you know?"

Hannah suddenly felt very old and tired. She swallowed the lump in her throat and thought of her mum. Not a day passed when Hannah didn't fear her father would return to kill her. And now everyone seemed to think You-Know-Who was coming back soon...

"Hannah?" Neville looked at her a bit nervously. "What is it?"

Hannah met his gaze. "Don't you ever just wish things could be _all right_?"

"Yeah, all the time," Neville said glumly, thinking of his parents and feeling a familiar, deep pang of something beyond sadness. The same thing he felt was mirrored on Hannah's face.

"Is everything going to be all right?" she asked quietly, feeling like the child she still was. On impulse, Neville closed the distance between them, encasing Hannah's smaller frame in a big hug. They stood like that, Hannah's face buried in Neville's shoulder, his chin just on top of her head. The next week, Hannah, along with a handful of others, joined Dumbledore's Army.

_III: The Trouble With Studying_

"I can't _DO_ this!" Hannah burst out, throwing her quill haphazardly across the oak library table. Neville quietly accioed it back, only to have Hannah grab it out of his hand passionately, glaring at the stacks of parchment in front of them. "I'll _never_ learn all of this in time for O.W.L.S.!" she exclaimed dejectedly, then suddenly became quite depressed. "I'm too stupid to take exams..."

Despite the constant DA training and knowledge that things were indeed changing for the worst, somehow most of the students managed to still worry about homework before Volde-I mean, You-Know-Who.

Hannah threw her head back and breathed out heavily like a dragon. She had a tendency to act a little crazy when she was upset and stressed. Lately, with the added stress of Umbridge _and_ O.W.L.S., Hannah was quite on edge. However, Neville now knew after four years of friendship how to calm her down. After giving her a moment to lapse into silence and subsequently become horrified with herself, he cleared his throat and gave her a hopeful smile.

"Sorry," she apologized quietly, a sheepish smile on her face.

"S'okay."

She chewed on the inside of her cheek as she looked with anxiety at the stack of textbooks in front of them, tapping her quill like a jackhammer against the solid oak table.

"Want a game of exploding snap?" Neville asked, knowing she would never turn down a chance to _try_ to beat him. Her face brightened immediately at the prospect of procrastination, and she began rummaging in her satchel for the cards (she carried them with her now, all the time, just in case).

Neville looked at the way her eyelashes fanned downwards towards her rosy cheeks, and his heart lodged in his throat. "And, Hannah... you're not stupid at all," Neville said thickly, giving himself away in the tender way he spoke. Hannah stopped rummaging and looked up curiously, and he didn't look away. For just a moment, he wasn't afraid to let her know how he felt. And then, just as Hannah was leaning forward with a very odd look on her face, she spilled _everything _in her satchel.


	4. The Last Years of School

_Chapter Four: The Last Years of School_

_I: How Neville Lost Hannah_

After passing the _O.W.L.S_. (both of them got mostly Acceptables with a couple of Exceeds Expectations) the prospect of a sixth year was daunting—the Wizarding world was abuzz with rumors and fears—Voldemort was back, and some parents decided not to send their children to Hogwarts. But Hannah's mother reasoned that it would be safe—safer than home, perhaps. And it turned out that she was right.

It was during Herbology that it happened. The class had been working with Devil's Snare when McGonagall came in with Professor Sprout and asked Hannah to go with her. The two professors looked uneasy and upset, and Neville looked around, expecting his fellow students to have noticed. But everyone was just working, oblivious. Neville wasn't sure if following his instincts was the best idea, but he did. And outside, he found a devastated Hannah with a silent McGonagall. Hannah's mother had been killed earlier that day with the Dark Mark above her house.

And when he heard this, Neville felt his stomach drop, the shock of it hitting hard. And then he hugged Hannah tightly, suddenly crying with her. She left Hogwarts immediately, dazed, lost, and without her cat (naturally, Neville took the poor creature in, which Trevor was_ thrilled_ about).

And Neville didn't ever see Hannah again. Well all right, that's an outright lie. But that's definitely and truthfully how Neville _felt_ when he watched Hannah leave—like he would never see her again. And he continued feeling that way for over a year. As selfish as it was, Neville felt the void generated by Hannah not being there, and he missed her. He constantly wondered where she was. But she never wrote. Sometimes, Neville read _The Daily Prophet_, afraid to see news of her death. But he heard nothing (and somehow, hearing nothing scared him even more).

Now, if the students thought their sixth year was bad, seventh year was, in comparison hell or something worse. With seventh year came Voldemort's return, and with his return Hogwarts was rendered unrecognizable. The Carrows, two particularly nasty Death Eaters, took over, while Snape remained cold, aloft, and silent. It was like being in a death camp.

_II: How Hannah Found Neville_

Even when Hogwarts required mandatory attendance of all magical children, Hannah still didn't turn up—but Neville hopefully reasoned that she'd gone into hiding and was just waiting for the right time to return. I suppose you'd think it's unlikely that Neville might become a hero, artful and clever, a revolution starter. But he did. He somehow forgot how to be clumsy and awkward, and instead grew passionately rebellious, enjoying his favorite new pastime (which was trying to get into trouble with the Carrows).

Meanwhile, young Hannah Abbott had unhappily sold her mother's home, hidden the money, and laid low in hopes of somehow being able to fight the state of the world she found herself in. Keeping her galleon close, she passed the time, waiting for it to tell her where to go.

On May first, 1998, the galleons all blazed to life, and Neville Longbottom found himself lost in a swarm of familiar faces inside the Room of Requirement. Just as the newly-arrived Oliver Wood was shaking Neville's hand heartily and saying something derogatory about Voldemort, a flash of blond appeared behind the fellow's shoulder, and Neville's heart skipped a beat (or several, actually).

It _was_ her! She was a bit thinner, a bit wilder—with her hair in untidy plaits and rosy cold-weather cheeks she stood breathless, clutching her galleon and staring at him, and then suddenly grinning madly. They shouted each other's names at once, rushing into a tight hug even as Harry Potter was shouting about evacuations and fighting. Everyone roared in response, stampeding toward the exit.

The noise drowned out what Hannah had begun to say, but despite the river of people squeezing around and past Hannah and Neville, it seemed quiet and serene, strangely enough. As the last of the noisy students filtered out, Neville stepped back, but didn't let go all the way (and she didn't try and end the embrace, either). He wanted to ask her a million things, but he settled for "Are you all right?"

She nodded, distracted as she gently ran a thumb over the gouge marks on his cheek. Her worried eyes flicked up from the wounds to his eyes. He caught her hand and held her gaze. "I love you, you know," he said steadily.

Hannah smiled up at him as if she had known all along, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Yes."

She stood on her tiptoes and gave him a kiss.

As the two simultaneously blushed and grinned and shuffled out together, you'd never have guessed that they were consciously entering into a war zone. But they _knew_ they were going to fight and they were going to win, because _nothing_ could stop them from making the world better as it once had been.

And so, hand in hand, Neville Longbottom and Hannah Abbott faced their greatest test ever—not O.W.L.S., not N.E.W.T.S, but something greater, definitive, life-altering. And in the end of it all, they would watch their world become bright once again.

_Epilogue: How Padrig and Trevor Lived Happily Ever After_

Above The Leaky Cauldron, a single window was lit. Inside, Neville distractedly nearly tripped over Padrig, who was bounding after good old Trevor. Throwing a good natured cease-and-desist in their general direction, he set down another box of potted plants and glanced down at his left hand for the millionth time, still not used to the new weight there.

"Neville, have you found the-oh, bollocks!" A loud crash followed, and Neville dashed to the kitchen to find his wife and a bunch of neon colored cups rolling on the floor. "Wonderful thing, this pla-stick," she said, picking one up and squinting as if she couldn't believe it hadn't broken. "Nice of Mr. Weasley to give them to us..." she trailed off, suddenly very interested in her husband's mischievous smile.

"Why Mr. _Longbottom_!" She exclaimed with mock astonishment. Neville just grinned at Hannah and kissed her against the kitchen cabinet, happier than he had ever been, ever.

In the other room, Padrig was contentedly chewing on Trevor's leg as the old toad grunted halfheartedly in protest.

…The End

* * *

_Author's Notes: Thank you for reading this story. It was a labor of love, and I really hope you enjoyed reading it and writing it. I value your feedback and reviews, so go leave me some of your thoughts! _

_Acknowledgements: My friend Claire for being my constant companion, assistant, and inspiration. Darling, you are my Trevor._


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